The Soul Inside Me Is The Last

I Think The End Is Endless. It's Either A Big Black Hole Or A Big White Light Or Both Together. But It's Totally Meaningless, Because Even If Someone Would Explain It, I Wouldn't Understand It.

Knowledge Of Peace Passes From Country To Country, Like Children's Games, Which Are So Much Alike, Everywhere.

Here (jerusalem), Tears Do Not Weaken The Eyes, They Only Polish And Shine The Hardness Of Faces Like Stone.

There Are Two Languages: One As Things Seem To Us And The Other Of Knowledge.

Tonight I Think Again Of Many Days That Are Sacrificed For One Night Of Love. Of The Waste And The Fruit Of The Waste, Of Plenty And Of Fire. And How Painlessly-time.